


Memories of Fallen Dreams

by beware_phangirl (dantiloquent)



Series: One Shots [7]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Injury, M/M, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 19:39:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3500438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dantiloquent/pseuds/beware_phangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em></em><strong>Summary:</strong> Phil’s left with amnesia, leaving him without memories after 2010, and 2015 isn’t exactly how he pictured it.<br/>Excerpt:<br/>“Well,” Phil exhales with a slight shake of his head, “there were ways I wanted to go…”<br/>“But this wasn’t one of them?” Dan finishes, and Phil nods.<br/>“Yeah. Like, I don’t know, saving a panda from an iceberg.”<br/>“Falling down the stairs.”<br/><strong>Warnings:</strong> injury (no graphic descriptions), very brief mentions of existential ideas</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memories of Fallen Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> From this [prompt](http://pianoboyhowell.co.vu/post/112616798631/so-amnesia-fics-are-always-where-dan-is-in-an) (don’t read unless you wanna know how it ends).  
> I saw this prompt and decided to do it, so that’s what this is. I changed it slightly I suppose, I hope it fills it okay! Idk if I covered the amnesia aspect a lot, but all the facts mentioned are true according to Google so.  
> Title is from Euphemia by Area 11.  
> Feedback is always appreciated! and you can read/reblog [here](http://pianoboyhowell.co.vu/post/113001883201/memories-of-fallen-dreams)

“Woah. I knew the train ride to Manchester was long, but not that long.” Phil’s squinting up at Dan between fluttering eyelashes, hair mussed up at the edges. “Not that I’m complaining at all,” he adds, and he grins with a small flick of his tongue. And as far as first words go, that wasn’t what Dan was expecting. He blinks back at Phil.  
“What?” Phil frowns through his smile.  
“You’re in hospital, Phil,” Dan says simply, at a loss of anything else to say. Phil’s fingers are curling around the white sheets and a bandage fades into the creases of his pillow, yet he’s talking about Manchester and not questioning his surroundings. Surroundings which, might Dan add, have made an uncomfortable habitat for him the past hours. He’s had to edge away from conversation with several nurses using a grimace, put up with the constant chatter and demands of the other patients as background noise, and he’s fairly sure the hard plastic of his chair has etched several red lines into his butt.  
“God, your voice, too. Skype wasn’t that inaccurate last time I checked,” Phil continues, gaze rolling over Dan as he tilts his head in study. “And, I know. Did I manage to actually fall off the platform this time?”  
His expectant gaze is almost too innocent for Dan - the comment nearly makes him smile, in fact, which would be horribly inappropriate - and he exhales steadily through clamped teeth.  
“Not exactly.”  
Phil inclines his head, waiting for Dan to explain.  
“Fuck it,” he mutters, then, “You’ve got retrograde amnesia, Phil, due to brain damage and lack of oxygen to the temporal lobe. Whatever the fuck that means,” he explains, and smiles because he has nothing else to do. “Uh - the nurses asked me to break the news, so that’s why I’m…here.” He waves his arms hopelessly.  
“Oh.”  
Phil leans back down into the sheets, pausing for a few moments as thoughts cloud his eyes. “How?”  
“What?”  
“How did I manage to do that?”  
Dan can remember it clearly enough from his perspective - the calm voice of the stranger on the end of his 999 call is still ringing in his ears - but to find simple words to put it in is hard. He feels like he should probably leave out his shock and strangled sobs. “You fell whilst changing a light bulb. Threw your head against the wall. Landed in such a way that you had ‘respiratory distress’. You were attempting to do DIY whilst I was away, you fucking twat,” Dan rolls his eyes. They both seem to have come to the unspoken agreement that to lighten the mood is better than panicking.  
“Well,” Phil exhales with a slight shake of his head, “there were ways I wanted to go…”  
“But this wasn’t one of them?” Dan finishes, and Phil nods.  
“Yeah. Like, I don’t know, saving a panda from an iceberg.”  
“Falling down the stairs.”  
Phil glares at Dan for that suggestion. “Well, I guess it’s a good job I’m still here, right?”  
“Yeah.” Of course. Dan smiles timidly, and silence stretches through a handful of short moments. “Wait, you said you thought you’d fallen off the platform. As in, train platform?”  
“Yes.”  
“What year do you think it is?”  
“2010. I guessed you were visiting again.”  
“Well,” Dan pauses. “That’s fucked up.”  
“Sorry?”  
“It’s 2015, for starters.”  
“Oh….Yeah, that is pretty fucked up. Though, it does explain your whole ‘Transformers’ vibe you’ve got going on.” He regards Dan again. “I would’ve thought you’d’ve lost that whole posh thing, though, after-” he stops to clock up the years “five years with me.”  
“Watch it. And it’s four, anyway. It’s February.”  
“Talk dirty to me in posh language, Dan Howell,” Phil teases, ignoring Dan’s objections. Dan laughs despite himself.  
“I’ve heard it before, but not quite like that.”  
“Oh?”  
“Well, I have like four million people swooning over me, so,” Dan explains awkwardly.  
“Four million? Jesus Christ. Congrats, I mean.” Dan gives a smile, but it’s not on the same level of genuinity as Phil’s - he has heard it all before, after all.  
Phil seems to get that, too, because he says, “I have a lot to catch up on, don’t I?”  
“Most definitely, but,” Dan nods his head at the nurse who’s approaching. As she draws closer, Dan catches the scent of alcohol sanitiser. Her hair is pulled up in a bun so tight he has to wonder if her smile is actually down to her taut skin, not her politeness.  
“How are you feeling?” she asks in a honey-slick voice, smile pulling even harder at her cheeks as she straightens out his sheets and picks up the clipboard at the end of the bed.  
“Confused,” Phil says simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Dan stops himself laughing at the tone of Phil’s voice.  
“I’m afraid there’s not much I can do about that. As Dan has hopefully explained, you’ve got a case of retrograde amnesia - a severe one, as far as we can tell. But your concussion has just about cleared, and we’ve found no serious damage in your brain. Retrograde amnesia, as I have explained to your friend, is an impairment to recall existing memories. It does not affect personality, judgement, identity or knowledge, nor will it affect your forming of new memories, although it can affect orientation, and, obviously, memories prior to the accident in question.”  
“Is there anything you can do about that?” Phil asks weakly. She shakes her head regretfully.  
“I’m afraid not. The most one can do is expose the sufferer to what would be familiar objects and surroundings. Retrograde amnesia is temporary, though, so never fear.”  
“Right.”  
“As I said before, there are no other apparent risks. There will be a few more necessary checks, but we should be discharging him later today,” she informs Dan, who nods and thanks her, tapping his fingers against his thigh until she’s out of earshot.  
“Well.” Dan pulls a face which says ‘that’s that’.  
“She sounded like she was talking out of a textbook,” Phil complains.  
“Talk about the bearer of bad news,” Dan agrees, perching again on the plastic seat.  
“We’ve got several hours to kill; how about that catch up?”  
“You want me to go back over the last four and a bit years?”  
“Don’t say it’s a long story.”  
“It is.”  
“We’ve got several hours, though,” Phil persists, and Dan sighs. Phil flashes a smug smile as Dan drags the chair closer with a sickening scrape.  
“Where do I even begin with this,” Dan mutters, more to himself, “What’s the last thing you remember?”  
“I don’t really know,” Phil shrugs.  
“Great. That’s really useful, Phil, thanks.”  
“Just, go over the important stuff. From, like, Summer 2010 onwards.”  
“Okay. You ready for this?”  
“Yep,” Phil nods, shuffling around on the mattress. “Can’t you, like, sit next to me? That seat looks really uncomfortable.”  
“It is, but I can’t: hospital rules.”  
“Hospital rules,” Phil scoffs. “Okay, well, you’d better start, then.”  
Following Phil’s request, Dan fills him in on the major events of the past few years; moving in together in Manchester, his university drop out, the radio show (“Radio show? Like, actual microphones and stuff?” Phil exclaims. “Yes, Phil, we’ve even got our own whiteboards,” Dan replies, coaxing a pleased smile from Phil), all the festivals and shows they’ve presented at, and anything else which pops to mind. He fills him in on their channels, his especially - he figures it’s best that Phil knows what he’s been doing himself before anyone else.  
“Hang on, we met Fall Out Boy?” Phil interrupts with bulging eyes.  
“Yep. Several times. We’re even in a Disney movie which they’ve written a song for, it’s actually pretty fucking amazing - you need to go see it. Pete Wentz even tweeted us about it, look,” Dan replies, scrolling down his phone to find the screenshot. He looks up to show Phil, but he has to try to catch a snigger when he sees Phil’s dropping jaw; he fails, and laughs before showing him the image.  
“Wow,” Phil says, eyes flickering over the screen. He looks back up, meeting Dan’s gaze. “You know what’s even better about all this?”  
“What?”  
Phil forehead furrows. “I can’t remember any of it.”  
That makes Dan laugh, too.  
-  
“So we live together now?”  
They’re trudging along the concrete to the bus stop outside the hospital, a promise of a taxi ride enough to console Phil. It’s an ugly building, with extensions of splayed out glass making up cafes and wards and fuck knows what else. Every so often Phil’s hand comes up to the bandage on his head, pulling away just as the pads of his fingers brush the fabric. They walk roughly in time below the darkening sky, rays of sunshine highlighting the underbelly of buttercream clouds as it continues its descent. Phil had complained about the chilly breeze when they had exited through the automatic doors, and Dan had shrugged, dropping the questionnaire they had received into the bin. “That’s Britain for you,” was all he had offered as consolation, and Phil had muttered something about him having a cold heart.  
“Yes,” Dan confirms. “That’s a thing - a good thing. It works.”  
“Until you leave me alone to fall off a chair, apparently.”  
“Hey, that was you, not me,” Dan points out. They’ve come to the bus stop, and they stand close to the kerb, Dan keeping an eye on the road.  
“Well, technically it wasn’t. You can’t blame me for something stupid I don’t remember doing,” Phil objects, pointing a finger at Dan.  
“Right. You commit a crime and try that one at court, Phil, and let me know how it goes,” he says, nodding violently in mockery, before hailing a cab and hearing Phil huff beside him.  
-  
Phil’s been trying to catch his reflection all the way home. Staring determinedly sideways to look at flimsy reflections in the glass panes of the cafe, craning his neck to look in cars’ side windows.  
“Stop it, Phil,” Dan says as Phil squirms once more in his seat.  
“I haven’t seen my own face properly in four years. I feel like I’m on one of those makeover shows,” he whines.  
“No cosmetics have been used in the making of this Phil,” Dan says in a deep voice.  
“It’s because I don’t need them,” Phil retorts. He winks, making Dan protest through laughs. He laughs, too, but it’s not long before he’s back to angling himself in such a way that the light will reveal his reflection.  
“Stop! Wait ‘til we get home, I have a full length mirror which you can admire your naked body in.” Dan dodges as Phil swats him lightly.  
“You didn’t.”  
“I did. It’s all gilded and metallic.”  
Phil buries his head in his hands. “Ugh.”  
“What?” Dan exclaims. “It’s not that bad!”  
“I’m just imagining what will happen when you break it. That must be over 100 years bad luck.”  
-  
“So what are we telling our millions of subscribers?” Phil inquires as Dan leads him to the front of their apartment block, and it makes Dan smile how he’s savouring the taste of those words on his tongue; when Dan had first told him, Phil had sat and said it a few times, a smile beginning to hook at his lips.  
“Well, I’ve already tweeted something, saying how you’ve had a nasty fall. In hindsight, I probably made it more comedic than sincere, but it’s hard to make anything you do serious. We can probably do a Tumblr post later - or a video, if you’re up for that,” Dan says as he shoulders open the door.  
“Cool,” Phil nods in acknowledgement, tilts his head back to look at the staircase that lies before him. “Christ, why did we get a flat with so many steps?”  
“It’s our only form of exercise, I promise you,” Dan calls over his shoulder, already part way up. “You coming?”  
“Yeah,” Phil says. He settles his foot on the first step, hesitating for a short moment before following.  
“So, this is it,” Dan says as Phil joins him at the beginning of the corridor that makes up the majority of the flat. “Bedrooms down there, kitchen’s there, study’s up there and the bathrooms are down those steps. The lounge is just here, and it has a mirror,” he informs, swinging open the door and pointing at the lego mirror hanging on the wall.  
“Did I put it up?” Phil asks as he walks towards it, studying himself intently.  
“Yup. Managed to not nearly kill yourself that time,” says Dan dryly.  
Phil walks up to it and studies himself, blinking and unmoving.  
“My hair’s good. I made a good decision with the hair,” Phil speaks after a few strung out moments.  
“Agreed.”  
“I look very different. Everything’s kind of stretched out. In a good way, I suppose,” Phil ponders.  
“Yeah, well. People change.” Dan clears his throat. “So, I was thinking we could have that spaghetti thing for tea?”  
“How did you know I’d like that?” Phil asks, rather stupidly.  
“Because you’re the one who cooks it normally, you twat!” Dan exclaims, then bites his lip. “Sorry.”  
“Don’t worry about it. But, tea, already? What time is it?”  
“Nearly seven, I think.”  
“Is it that late, really?”  
“Yeah. Taxi rides aren’t quick whilst in London. So I’ll go cook that, then?”  
“Do you want me to help?”  
“I think it’s best if you stay here. You’re not allowed to use screens or read, so just sit and wait, I suppose,” Dan says. “Well, I guess you could get away with TV,” he compromises after Phil pouts. He passes the remote to Phil with a clumsy throw. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”  
Dan swiftly prepares the simple meal from memory, throwing the ingredients into two pans and putting them on the hob. A few minutes later, he returns to find Phil staring at the TV rather blankly, paying little apparent attention to the nature documentary playing.  
“I’ve realised that we’re quite lucky,” Phil begins as Dan takes a seat beside him, “in that we’ve got practically all our lives stored on video. Our work revolves around sharing our lives, right? So I could just go and watch all my videos from the past four and a bit years.”  
“Yeah, I mean they did say showing you familiar objects and telling you about things could help, so it’s worth a try. Don’t overload your brain, though.”  
“Right.”  
-  
They spend the half hour or so before the cooker beeps with Dan telling Phil other stories he has previously missed, and he even starts telling him about a new video idea he has. Phil is eager to help, and Dan reminds himself that amnesia doesn’t affect people’s knowledge or personality as he goes to dish out the food.  
“How’s your head?” Dan knocks the door open with his hip, bearing two dishes in his hands.  
“Alright, considering I feel like I’ve lost half of it,” Phil replies casually, making Dan chuckle. “So, what now?”  
“Well, normally we while away our nights watching anime and scouring the internet, but we can’t really do either, so…” Dan trails off, pausing as he considers the situation a second. They can’t watch anything which is part of a series, as Phil won’t remember the episodes previous, and browsing is out of the question, apparently. “We could watch a film? They’re all there,” he offers, gesturing to the tower of disks beside them. Phil nods, taking up the offer and sweeping his gaze over them for a few minutes.  
“Hang on, Deathly Hallows is out? I remember the hype for that,” he exclaims, clawing out one of the disks with the tip of his finger.  
“Yeah,” Dan says, swallowing before continuing, “Rowling might write some more, everyone’s excited about that.”  
“These are out, and people are begging for more? I haven’t even watched this yet! People take so much for granted, honestly,” Phil proclaims, studying the cover.  
“Believe me, we have talked about the ungratefulness of humanity several times over, but right now I am in too good a mood to discuss it again,” Dan says.  
Phil turns to him with widening eyes and a small smile. “You are? They’ve been getting better?”  
“Kind of, yes.”  
Phil nods and smiles, wider. “I’m glad to hear that.”  
Dan hesitates for a moment, unsure whether to smile and nod or pay attention to the little pang in his chest. “Shall we watch this film, then?”  
“Good idea.”  
-  
They watch the film in relative silence, legs crossed and a fair few inches between them. Afterwards, Phil helps Dan bring the remnants of their food through to the kitchen, and Dan tells him how, normally, they’d go to their rooms for the night. Walking out of the kitchen, Dan turns and points at each door.  
“That’s yours,” Dan points at the one on the left, “and that’s mine,” he smiles and starts to head to his room, but Phil’s voice halts him.  
“Can I see your room?”  
“What? Why?” Dan asks, turning back around.  
Phil shrugs with a small smile. “I’m allowed to see how my friend has grown up, aren’t I?”  
“You’re so sappy,” Dan complains, but nods, and leads him inside. Phil looks around, nonplussed, for a few minutes, walking round and nodding at the different items. He laughs for an inappropriate length of time when he sees the butt chair.  
“It’s very you,” he says, rejoining Dan at the door.  
“Yeah?” Dan knows it’s a compliment, and takes it as such.  
“Yeah.”  
“Okay.”  
Phil pulls him in for a hug, and Dan happily obliges, feeling Phil rest his head on Dan’s shoulder as Dan hooks his arms round Phil’s waist. Phil gives him a little squeeze before drawing back; he looks steadily at Dan, appearing puzzled. Dan frowns.  
“What?”  
“I always knew that one day you’d be taller than me,” Phil gives a wistful smile, “I just didn’t think it would be this soon.” His voice is bordering too closely on plaintive for it not to send a little pang to Dan’s chest as he realises that, for Phil, several years have washed by in a day. At a loss of what to say in response, Dan bows his head.  
“Night, Phil.”  
“Night,” Phil replies, leaving the room. He looks back once for a fleeting second before entering his room. Dan stays standing for a moment, wondering what he’s got himself into.  
-  
The following day, Dan is wiping the counters in the kitchen when Phil stumbles in, eyes bleary.  
“Morning.”  
“You got any coffee?”  
Dan can’t help but smile. “Seasons change but taste buds don’t, I see,” he remarks.  
“I can remember that song as if it came out yesterday,” Phil comments.  
“It did for you,” Dan replies, chucking the cloth into the sink for one of them to come across later. “Cereal’s in that cupboard there, and I’ve put the kettle on. I guess you’ll be wanting your instant crap?”  
“Of course,” Phil sniffs.  
“Great,” Dan quips sarcastically. “Such a peasant.”  
A few minutes later, they settle at the table, the air around them uneasily quiet as they regard one another. Phil breaks the silence first.  
“So, tell me about Gerard’s hair. What colour is it now?”  
“Some shade of blonde, I think. It works. Everything works; he managed to pull off lemon.”  
“Of course he did, Gerard’s hair transcends humanity.”  
“It is very good hair,” Dan nods, laughing round his cereal as he takes into account exactly what they are discussing around the table.  
“Like yours,” Phil says suddenly. Freezing for a split second, Dan shakes his head.  
“Nah, yours is better.”  
Phil studies him - Dan can’t help but feel like a museum piece at the moment - and thinks for a minute.  
Dan clears his throat, “So, um-”  
“We’re not together, are we?”  
Dan knows it’s the first time those words have been shared between them, and to hear the topic said aloud after so long makes him stiffen. He drops his spoon back into the bowl, hearing a shrill clang as it hits the china.  
“No.”  
“Funny,” Phil tilts his head, “I thought we’d have figured that out by now.” The tone lies between bitter and hurt, but he pulls it off nonchalantly, and Dan can feel his mouth go dry. He ducks his head to hide the blossoming pink on his face, biting the inside of his cheek. Phil’s trying to get out of 2010, but he’s lived through these years with a Phil who veered round the topic obstinately, so much so that he’s managed to force those particular ideas away. Until now, apparently.  
“Did we ever try? Or did it just fuck up?”  
Dan doesn’t know why Phil’s being so belligerent, it’s not like it’s Dan’s fault. It would be Phil’s, too - both of theirs, or no one’s at all. He wants to object, to recall something dramatic or clever, but nothing reveals itself to him.  
“There was nothing _to_ fuck up.”  
“For you, or for me? Because for me, there is definitely something to fuck up-”  
“Shut up.” Dan’s voice rises slightly, cutting deep. Phil’s words start to constrict him thereafter. “You don’t know what you’re saying,” Dan says in hushed tones. “You’ve fucking lost your memory - and you can’t just say that, not after all this.” Dan cuts himself off, and in his peripheral he can see Phil’s facade crumble. Nothing is said for a painfully long time, and when the loose thread on Dan’s sweater is no longer interesting, he stands. The chair scrapes across the floorboards.  
“I’m going to put my stuff away-” his bowl isn’t even empty -“do you want more coffee?” He tries for a small smile, but his gaze warns Phil away from continuing the topic. Phil hesitates, clamping his mouth shut and shaking his head no.  
“No, thanks.”  
“Okay. Well, none of your last minute demands.”  
“I can do that. Dan?”  
“Yes?” Dan pauses in the doorway.  
“When you come back, you’re telling me more about meeting Fall Out Boy.”  
Dan grins regardless of the toxic atmosphere between them due to the unspoken words.  
“Will do.”  
-  
To while away the days, they explore London, Dan showing Phil the landmarks as well as the little corners and hidden adventures that they have previously discovered together. Dan’s doing it to help Phil regain his memories, but they continue to go in to the city even once they’ve found it hasn’t worked, as Phil is enjoying seeing London too much.  
“How are you not bored already?” Dan asks as they walk down another lane, the sky above them thick with cloud.  
“Well, I can’t remember seeing all this before, so I get to sightsee again as if it were the first time. I may as well enjoy it,” Phil points out.  
“But it’s so much exercise.”  
“Too bad.”  
-  
Dan is disturbed at midnight by a snippet of a voice sounding through the walls. He sits, puzzled, for a few minutes before figuring it must be Phil on his YouTube marathon. His laptop lies on his lap, open on a Wikipedia page, and his body is becoming too warm under his duvet. His fingers wrap across his laptop before he swings himself out of bed, trudging sleepily to the door and into the intimidating indigo thread of the corridor. Stopping outside Phil’s door as he hears a laugh, he pushes the door open. Phil’s lounging on his duvet in near darkness, the laptop screen flushing his face with silver and blue, and his eyes reflecting back streams of azure and metal. Phil starts as Dan enters.  
“You alright?” Dan asks.  
“I’m fine, just watching that baking video.”  
“For the fourth time?” Dan asks slyly, taking another step.  
“Shut up. And it’s only the third, so.”  
“Do you want to watch something?”  
“Alright. Only for a change of scene, though, don’t think I’m doing this for you.”  
“I never said that.”  
“You were thinking it, though. I am irresistible,” Phil teases boastfully, clambering out of bed.  
“A fucking twat, more like,” Dan amends, shoving him lightly as he passes.  
Walking into the lounge, Dan flicks on the light and they both squint as it digs into their retinas. Phil wonders over the the shelves that stack up to the ceiling, quickly picking one.  
“Tangled? Really, Phil?”  
“It’s Disney.”  
“You’re such a child.”  
“Nah, it’s because anything else will scare you too much,” Phil prods fun at him as he inserts the disk.  
“That was one time,” Dan defends, collapsing onto the couch petulantly.  
“Of many,” Phil adds, sitting beside him. “And that’s just from one year.”  
Dan huffs and concedes, knowing there have been many times that he’s nearly ended up in Phil’s lap from fright - not that he’s counting. (He is.)  
-  
Once the film is finished, they let the credits and theme roll through as they sit in silence, neither bothering to stand and turn off the TV. They have turned off the lights since starting the movie, so they’re left with only the light from the screen.  
“I know what I’m saying,” Phil begins quietly, and Dan turns his head to face him. “I know how I feel. The nurse said amnesia doesn’t affect judgement, remember? And - by the sounds of it, it’s all gone wrong before. This is a second chance for me - like, time travel. I am not going to fuck this up again. Please.”  
“Why are you saying please?” Dan asks delicately, as if the words and everything else will shatter around them. Phil’s face is lit on one side, his eyes reflecting back Dan’s silhouette. His lips are parted slightly and his breathing is deep and fuck, Dan kind of really wants to kiss him right now.  
“Why do you think?” It isn’t a challenge. Dan can’t quite work out what it is. Soft, gentle, like star shine. Maybe.  
Dan’s eyes are round and drowsy in several curved shades of gold, and he leans forward slightly, their knees bashing between them. He runs his thumb gently over Phil’s cheek, breathing deep and slow. “I think…” he trails off. He never finishes his sentence, instead finding Phil’s lips with his own.  
-  
They’re doing spring cleaning after the idea is induced by Phil. Dan’s putting the coffee back in the coffee cupboard when Phil shouts for him.  
“What is it?” Dan asks, walking through into the living room to find Phil staring at an object in his hand with surprise. He looks up, then grins just as slowly.  
“I think I remember.”


End file.
